A Spring Tuesday Morning
by Nuuhtella
Summary: Grief and sorrow go hand in hand with Tuesdays and spring.


Written for the QLFC Season 5 - Round 11

Tutshill Tornados - Chaser 2

Prompt: Write about a death on a spring day.

Optional Prompts:  
[1] Let It All Go - BIRDY (plus symbol) RHODES (song)  
[5] Asleep (word)  
[12] Yellow (colour)

 **Word Count:** 1,016

* * *

It happened on a Tuesday.

Of course it did.

So many significant moments in her life had happened on a Tuesday, so how could she have thought that this would be any different? She had lost her first tooth on a Tuesday. Her first kiss had occurred on a Tuesday. She had made her wedding vows on a Tuesday. Then she gave birth to a son and, years later, a daughter on a Tuesday. She had even buried one of her beloved children on a Tuesday. And yet, she hadn't been prepared for this.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

"Mama…" A small, tentative voice came from the shadowy doorway behind her. "Maybe you should get some rest?"

"No thank-you," she murmured.

"I could stay up with him. You must be exhaust-"

"I said no."

Their grief hung heavy in the air between them.

"Alright," said her daughter after a few moments. "It'll be dawn in an hour or two. I'll check on you again in the morning." She paused. "Unless you'd like for me to stay?"

"Thank you for the offer but I'd rather be alone I think. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mama."

She heard the door snap shut behind her and her entire body relaxed.

"We're alone again now, my love," she whispered.

She clutched her husband's hand and lifted it to rest against her lips.

He was motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. His eyes occasionally fluttered open and each time they did a hope renewed within her that he would wake up and everything would be fine once more.

But that wouldn't happen.

Looking at him lying there, sound asleep, he seemed so peaceful. What was left of his once bright, red hair was now a pure, unyielding white and his skin had since turned sallow. He looked so small, so frail. Yet, he was still the man who had captured her heart all those long years ago.

Only a few weeks ago the flowers had started to bloom once again. Leaves had begun to grow on the trees and animals were emerging from their hibernation. Spring had finally sprung once more and it was the renewal of life, the symbol of birth and of new beginnings.

How ironic.

A few days earlier it had begun. She knew from the moment that she woke up on the Friday that something was wrong. His breathing had become uneven and he couldn't seem to consume anything other than tea and toast. By Monday he wasn't eating at all and at around midday he had collapsed in the middle of the kitchen. Fortunately, one of their sons had been visiting and managed to get him up the stairs and into bed. By evening, their entire family had arrived and begun their silent vigil.

Many of them were still down there now.

But she couldn't face leaving him. Not now.

She could remember the first day she met him as if it were yesterday. It was far from love at first sight but, in the end, it was most definitely love. She remembered with fondness the day he plucked up the courage to ask her on a date and reminisced over the day they were engaged and then married. Their love story was perfect and she couldn't have hoped for a better one.

Yellow rays of sunshine had begun to filter through the floral curtains. They illuminated the room, spots of light dancing merrily against the walls. He began to stir. His eyelashes began to flutter and this time they mercifully stayed open. The blue eyes found the brown and she found herself melting under his gaze.

"Hello, darling," she murmured.

It took him a few moments to find his voice. Tears welled up in her eyes but a small smile was playing on her lips.

"What time is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"Oh."

"You should rest. You're not well at all. Would you like some tea? Water? Are you cold? That's it I-"

He grasped her hand, silencing her babble immediately. He pierced her with his gaze as he lightly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Molly… It's time," he said.

"No, Arthur!"

Hot tears began to cascade down her cheeks.

"Hush now, my love. I think you know – I think you've known for a while. Morning is coming and I…" He paused. "I have to go."

"Why?" she sobbed. "Why now?"

"I don't know, Mollywobbles. It's just my time."

Arthur kissed her lightly on her forehead before lying back down against the pillows. Molly sobbed harder at that, unable to control herself.

"But I need you," she managed to choke out.

"You can do this. We can do this. We're strong enough for this," said Arthur.

"How do you know?"

"I know because our love can conquer mountains."

A small laugh turned into another sob and Molly lay her head down onto Arthur's chest. They stayed in that embrace for who knows how long. She couldn't even pinpoint the exact moment that she knew he had vacated the world forevermore.

It happened on a Tuesday.

Their daughter, Ginny, was the first to discover them. She called for her husband, Harry, and he ran into the room closely followed by her son George. Ginny only had to lightly coax her out of the wooden chair. She followed in a daze, unable to muster any kind of feeling at all. She was numb. As they left the room she heard one of the boys speak.

"He looks as if he could just be asleep."

 _Yes,_ she thought. _But he's not._

He's not.

A fresh wave of tears began and a heavy lump seemed to become caught in her chest. It was as though her heart was breaking in two and at any moment the pieces would escape out through her mouth and disintegrate right before her very eyes. The love of her life had gone where she could not yet follow. This time she would have no comfort. This time she would be alone.

It happened on a Tuesday.


End file.
